


Scout's Honor

by Voidspeaker (Cloudspun)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Crippled Scout, Gen, He gets better i promise, Sorry guys I needed Scout angst/recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudspun/pseuds/Voidspeaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was one job that Billy did as a Scout: he ran. He was fast, he was reckless, and he was good at his job.<br/>But when a stray mine goes off under him after the Respawn is shut down, that might all be in jeopardy. Without his leg, can he continue as he has been before?</p><p>[I know this has probably been done before, but I haven't found any here yet.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loss

The first thing to hit him was the sting. The second, was the pain.

He heard Pyro's scream, muffled though it was beneath her mask. He'd known Pyro was female since he'd first met her; he alone had known her secret from her first day, and he'd confirmed it when he looked her up three weeks after their second mission. She was actually pretty sane behind the mask, despite what she'd said to the contrary.

Funny how he'd gone on a tangent again, because as soon as he forced himself back to center from his train of thought, he realized everything was black and blank.

He came to in Medic's infirmary instead of respawning, which struck him as odd. It felt like he was being held down, like something was sitting on his chest and pinning him to the cot. He tasted dread whenever he breathed in, and it reminded him of that day he'd walked across the stage with degree in hand, and had looked out and seen neither his mother nor his sister in the crowd. His brothers were all off to war, most of them were as likely to die as come back and he knew it, but he'd seen his ma in the crowd before.

So he'd run, run, run like a bat out of hell back to his home.

He'd gotten there soon enough to hear the gunshot, had found his sister crying and reaching out to find some comfort, any comfort she could get. His heart had stopped when the lights came back on and he saw her eyes. Her now-milky, blind eyes, that shot straight through his heart and he knew he didn't want to go inside and see their mother because oh that dread tasted like acid on his tongue, thick and acrid.

He called the police, told them something bad had happened and his home had been broken into and his sister was hurt. He'd felt nothing but rage when the paramedic showed up with the gurney, nothing but seething hatred and denial when they zipped the body-bag up and shooed him and his sister into the back of the wagon.

His sister would never see again.

He realized something in that moment, thinking about his sister. Normally even if he was laying down he'd be twitching his feet, particularly thinking of that night. Dread welled up further, an acidic ball in his mouth as he realized something was off about the light pressure of the sheets against his lower legs and his feet. He sat up and looked down right as the Doc came back in.

His heart dropped like a stone. Right below his right knee, the sheet was flat like...

“Like there ain't nothin there.” He whispered, horrified. His eyes shot up to the Medic, who was clearly struggling against pity.

“Zhe respawner had shut down. If ve had not done somezhing, you vould haff bled out. I did all I could. I am sorry.” The German ex-surgeon murmured, bowing his head and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

* * *

 

He didn't want to face the others. Medic was one thing, he was the bloody doctor of the group, but the others? Those he'd so good-naturedly taunted and roughhoused with not even a week ago? No. Their pity would kill him where the loss of his right leg had failed. Hell, he didn't even want to see Pyro, and she was honestly his closest friend out of the bunch... not even Heavy could claim to know what she knew about him.

“Scout?”

Speak of the Devil.

“Whaddya want, Heavy-Weapons-Guy?”

“Medic say you not doing so good. Say you very upset. I do not understand, and wish to if you will explain.”

He felt a snappy retort bubble up and die. Damn, without his speed he wasn't much for chatter, now that was a change.

“Ya know how...” He started, then sighed. One of those massive hands rested lightly on his shoulder; he'd seen Heavy crush the opposite team's skulls like blackberries with those hands, yet the man was surprisingly gentle when he wasn't fighting.

“Scout?” Heavy prompted.

“Billy. My name's Billy.”

“Ivan. Now, you were saying?”

He nodded. “Ya know how you love being able to shoot Sasha so much?”

“Ja, is good feeling.” Ivan chuckled deep in his chest, and Billy suddenly felt a bit safer just letting it out.

“Imagine something happened to you, say ya lost your hand or summin' like that. Suddenly, you can't shoot her anymore, and you never will again.” That was the best way he could put it, honestly. His speed was all he really had going for him, all he had between himself and unpleasant respawn. “Ya aren't able to shoot, ya can't fight, you're rendered useless to the team and have to just wait for your contract to be terminated so ya can go on disability and waste the rest of your life back home.”

“Is not good thought, not so good feeling.” Ivan confirmed. Ok, he was gonna have best-friend status again here real soon. The man was like the massive Russian father Billy had never had. “You can maybe get Engie to make something, make you able to walk again?”

“Psh.. yeah, I can get a prosthetic, but I'll never run again. Not like I used to. Sure there are some, but generally they lost both legs somehow. Me? I'll just be the little onelegged freak. If I can't dodge bullets and snag intel faster than greased lightning I'm of no use to you guys.” He snarked bitterly.

“You know story of one-legged toy soldier?” Ivan asked offhandedly. Billy shot a confused look at the gun-o-phile.

“What? Of course I have.”

“Then you have inspiration. No giving up. Not from you. We need you and fire you bring. You work back up to previous speed, ja? No give up, or I turn you over to Soldier.”

“Oh god no!” Billy laughed, swallowing the painful tears that the emotion brought up.


	2. Chapter 2

He looked at the hunk of scrap that Engie had put together, appraising it carefully before sliding it onto the stub just under his knee. He knew as soon as he'd wobbled to his feet that the damn thing was too long, too stiff, but he'd tried walking with it anyway, putting all the weight he could on it as he moved.

He fell after three steps, barely avoiding breaking his nose on the concrete.

“Too stiff, too stiff. Too long, too, from the looks of it, least now I've got something to work with now. How'd it feel besides that?” The Texan sighed, helping Billy back to his wheelchair.

“I dunno, Engie. I was too focused on _not_ knowin how it felt to have my face smashed into the pavement.” The crippled Scout snarked, settling back against the canvas seat. God, how he hated this thing! He missed the wind on his face and the pavement under his feet.

“Well, if you want to wait around I should have a new model fixed up for you.” Engie offered, pulling up his weathered goggles to inspect the boy. Billy shrugged.

“Got nothin but time.” He shrugged again.

 

* * *

 

Ivan and the Pyro (who he and Billy both knew as Morgana, but the others didn't need to know that) watched passively as the Scout struggled with each version of prosthetic that the Engineer made.

“He does not understand. Will be good for him to run again.” Ivan remarked softly. Morgana nodded, pulling her mask up just enough to make herself understood.

“Broke his heart to lose his leg. He needs the world blurring past, else he thinks too much.” She confirmed, wincing in sympathy as the youth fell once again.

“Is too soon for him to be cripple. He has whole life ahead, should not have to be terminated. This is not his fault.”

“Fault's got nothing to do with it, but if they think they can terminate him without fallout they've got another thing coming. I'll quit, Medic'll quit, and so will Spy and Solly. They won't take this.”

“Nor will I. Will walk away, help Billy get back up. More important.” Ivan nodded.

“We're family. They aren't splitting us up, if one goes so do we all.” Morgana sighed, before pulling her mask back down and walking down the stairs to where Billy was struggling. Ivan followed after a moment's thought.

 

* * *

 

“You make it too stiff, Engie. Needs to be aluminum or fiberglass, not steel.” Ivan scolded from the shadows; Billy startled, making himself crash into Morgana and twist his good leg rather painfully. Engie sighed, shrugging.

“I'm goin' with what I have, Heavy. If you can find me the tools and materials I'll be glad to do better. Fer now all I can do to help is use the steel I have access to, he's gonna need a professionally-made one before it's all said an' done.” The mechanic offered, walking over to Billy so he could help the Scout with removing the prosthetic. Ivan got a thoughtful look on his face, then turned and walked away.

“Why d'ya bother, anyway...?” Billy muttered, eyes focusing on the ground rather than the steel contraption. “Not like it'll do any good.”

“Because _when_ , not if but when, you walk again, you'll thank me.” Engie drawled in retort. He took the prosthetic over to the grindstone, applying steel-on-granite and setting sparks flying. Billy didn't reply, instead leaning on his elbows and letting his gaze wander. The others knew he was hurt, but he'd avoided them for the most part. Maybe after Engie had a working version he could at least walk among them with a little bit of dignity.

He hadn't called his sister that week, and he knew he needed to. He had a lot to explain, and he knew she would understand.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey, Matt, it's Billy. Lily isn't around, is she?"

"She's in your old room with Maggie, why?"

"I need to talk to her." Billy adjusted the receiver against his ear, chewing thoughtfully on his lip.

"Gimme a sec, li'l bro."

He heard his brother-in-law set the receiver down, and heard the muffled shout for his little sister. Pounding, likely footsteps on the stairs, followed by a scraping sound as the receiver was picked up rang in his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Lee." Billy smiled at the soft voice.

"Will! Hey, how are you?" Lily's smile was evident in her voice, he could almost see her expression softening. She was the only one who he allowed to use that particular nickname.

"I'm… I could be worse. I'm a lot better now I've heard you." He knew it would sound like a flirt, but they'd bantered and talked long enough that that was common between them.

"Will, what's wrong?" The change in her voice was obvious, and Billy winced. He almost forged some fake comment, but Lily was the only one in his family who knew what he did and why he usually didn't change through the years.

"Stepped on somethin' just after this last battle. Respawn was down, so they had to take my leg off about two inches below my knee. It's been a couple of weeks now, Engie's tryin to put a temporary pegleg together for me."

"How bad was it?" Her words were guarded now, he could hear emotion but it was muddled.

"Bad enough, it knocked me out. I didn't wake up until after it was over, I didn't see the damage. Medic wasn't able to fix it with his Medi-gun so that says a lot. I'm stuck in a wheelchair now, can't hardly get around because of all the stairs they've got here. I'm out in the desert, so... I guess it coulda been worse."

"Alright. I actually need to go, Mags needs to go outside." He could hear the dog whining in the background, and smiled softly.

"Ok, then. Take care of yourself, Lily. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Will. We're rooting for you."

He hung up the phone, feeling happier but oddly drained. He could hear Engie hollering for him, and sighed as he wheeled himself back down to the mechanical genius' workshop.

* * *

David watched as Billy carefully strapped on the prosthetic; the kid had gotten pretty dexterous with the admittedly-clumsy straps and buckles, but he was still a klutz when it came to actually walking. It didn't help that David didn't have the proper materials to make a decent runner's-leg. He'd seen Heavy digging around in BLU's base, but for what he had no clue. He analyzed the leg as the Scout stood and took one, two, three wobbly steps, then slipped and almost fell; David noted carefully how little give the steel had, how much Billy had to strain to make it bend properly.

"I need aluminum to make this work properly, kiddo. I'm sorry."

"'S ok, Engie. I'm done for anyway, ya don't have to waste your time."  
At least Billy had the reflexes to duck when the pipe-wrench went flying at his head.

"Say that again and I won't miss. You drop that attitude right now, boy, or we're all done for." David rumbled. Billy paled a shade, nodded, then sat and pulled the prosthetic off. He gave it back, then quickly made his escape.

* * *

"You're feelin' sorry for yourself again, kid."

Billy glanced up at the Sniper, watching the Aussie from under the bill of his cap.

"Whaddya mean?" He retorted. Sniper shook his head, focusing on sharpening his Kukri.

"You're mopin' about like like a kid who's dropped his lolly in the street."

Billy winced. "Not one to clip words, are ya?" He growled.

"Not when it would hurt someone. Go grab yer baseball. You mightn't be able to run fer it right now, but I'm sure you're still one helluva pitcher."

Billy swallowed, nodded, and wheeled his way back to his room. He picked up the scuffed, not-quite-white-anymore ball, turning it over in his hands and letting thoughts run through his fingers like sand through a sieve.

"Nothin' better t'do…" He mumbled, setting the ball and his bat in his lap and wheeling back out to where Mundy sat. He tossed the ball at the Sniper, who caught it deftly.

"I'm not gonna be as accurate with pitchin' as normal. Can't aim as well when I'm sittin'." Billy warned. Mundy didn't respond, merely chucked the ball back at him. Reflexively, he snapped the bat up as sent the baseball soaring back, with the Aussie tossing his knife and whetstone aside to chase it.

Billy did something he hadn't done for weeks.

He _smiled_.


End file.
